


A Very Good Bad Thing

by PsychoMantis



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoMantis/pseuds/PsychoMantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joseph and Sebastian make it out of Ruvik's nightmare alive. Alive, but not necessarily whole. Trauma is a creeping thing that starts tearing you apart when all you want to do is move on.</p><p>Joseph develops some maladaptive coping habits. If anyone should understand the allure of maladaptive coping habits, it's Sebastian, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Bet You Don't Feel Lighter

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This will have trigger-y stuff like: Depression, PTSD, Implied Violence, Suicide Mention, Suicidal Ideation, OCD, Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Self-Injury.
> 
> Please take care of yourself if these are things that bother or may harm you!
> 
> A NOTE: Look, I just want to clarify something important to me: a lot of this is based off of my personal experiences with mental illness. I'm not saying you can't enjoy it anyway you want to, you folks do you! No judgments, yo.
> 
> I'm just saying, is all; I'm not trying to glorify or sensationalize self-harm and self-harming behaviors. I'm just using fiction to explore and make sense of things that include my personal experiences and feelings. Not to mention to give myself (and other readers) the relative satisfaction of having control over situations like this by inflicting them (and their conclusions) on fictional characters.

The first thing that surprised Joseph was how much _worse_ he felt when he was cut loose from the STEM system.

He had thought he would welcome his return back to objective reality with open arms, but all he felt after swimming up through the haze of unconsciousness was a deep, gnawing dread. Not to mention one hell of a headache.

Sebastian stood over him, shook him until his vision blurred, and didn’t stop until Joseph managed to sputter something about being awake. Sebastian smiled and Joseph wondered how the fuck he was managing to do that. All Joseph wanted to do was vomit and go to sleep.

“Joseph! Jesus Christ,” Sebastian said, breathless, “you’re here! You’re alive!”

Joseph nodded. He tried to manage a small smile for Sebastian but something dark in Sebastian’s expression told him he hadn’t done a very good job. He couldn’t worry about that, though- soon they were both up and stumbling forward on unsteady legs, swamped by law enforcement. They started frantically unplugging a host of bodies in tubs, some all-too familiar.

Not all of them woke up.

Joseph recognized that something inside him was devastated, wanted to collapse and curl up sobbing with every face they unplugged that was now slack and bloodless.

He didn’t though. He watched the paramedics zip Connelly’s body into an unmarked black bag, feeling very still and small and scared- and incapable of doing anything about it other than staring.

He looked to Sebastian and noticed that he looked just as empty and defeated as Joseph felt. Joseph pressed the heel of his palm to his midsection and remembered the last thing that had happened to him inside Ruvik’s imagination-scape. He had been surprised before that there was no blood, no entry wound, nothing left.

He had also been a little disappointed that he wasn’t still dying.

\---

The hospital was quiet, except for the gentle thrum of the machinery around him. It made Joseph feel sort of edgy. He hadn’t been awake for most of it, but he found that he didn’t really want to be hooked up to, or surrounded by, any more pieces of unfamiliar machinery.

The hospital was the first place he and Sebastian had been taken, separated in the frantic bustle of processing corpses and getting the survivors treatment. 

Joseph found himself sat down in an empty examination room, waiting for the doctor to come back with the x-rays they’d insisted on. X-Rays he knew damn well would come up clear, not that anyone was listening to him. You’d think he’d be the first to speak up if he were in the process of dying, but no. The KCPD had to be sure about what insurance claims would be coming at them.

“Mr. Oda?” the doctor said as he entered the room. He was holding a manila folder and looked tired.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Wallace. We got your x-rays back. It looks like…looks like everything’s fine. We’re running a few panels of blood work, just to be sure, but you should be all set to be released."

“Great.”

Dr. Wallace looked perturbed. “I thought your partner had reported that you’d been shot in the midsection…twice? And also that you’d been coughing up blood."

“He must have been mistaken, then,” Joseph said, “obviously, I’m fine.”

“Strange thing to be mistaken about,” Dr. Wallace said quietly, putting the folder down on the counter.

Joseph tried to keep his face and his tone neutral. “Yes, well. There are a lot of strange things to take into account, I suppose.”

He got up and collected his things.

“If you’ll excuse me, doctor, I think I’ll be going,” Joseph said.

“One more thing, detective,” Dr. Wallace said, “I’m not fully informed on the incident at Beacon, but…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some counseling, hm? Your line of work must be terribly stressful, even without the…eh, excitement of recent events.”

Joseph furrowed his brows.

“I’ll be sure to do that if my superiors find it appropriate,” Joseph said, keeping his voice level.

“Your behavior seems unusually detached,” Dr. Wallace said.

“Does it. Well, thank you, Doctor. Have a good day,” Joseph said, walking out into the hallway. He checked out at the emergency-room’s reception desk, stony-faced and silent.

\---

Joseph found Sebastian fidgeting in the waiting room.

Sebastian jumped up from his chair. “Joseph! How are you?” 

He patted Joseph’s shoulder and looked him up and down. Joseph smirked and patted Sebastian’s shoulder right back.

“Fine. Unharmed. Not bleeding. Not dead,” Joseph said, “small miracles. You?”

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “Hah, yeah…same. It feels strange, doesn’t it? After all that, I feel I should be a lot more banged up. Show just about any evidence that I was almost torn apart by zombies, or like…took a chainsaw to the leg."

Joseph suppressed a shudder. “Yeah, it…feels wrong.” 

He fingered the place on his stomach where the bullet had hit him.

“Well, let’s get the hell out of here,” Sebastian said. They made their way to the hospital entrance.

Joseph sighed. “I suppose we have to go to the precinct and get the interrogation over with?"

Sebastian nodded, raising his hand to flag down a taxi. “Yeah, suppose we do. It’d be too much to ask them for a few hours to sleep or something."

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s stop at a convenience store first.”

\---

Sebastian and Joseph stood on the front steps of the police department, taking long drags from their cigarettes. Sebastian had raised an eyebrow at Joseph when he’d purchased the pack, but hadn’t said anything about it. He just bought himself a pack and offered Joseph his lighter.

They were three cigarettes down and neither of them had suggested going inside yet.

“You know,” Sebastian said, putting his cigarette out on the railing, “I don’t want to deal with this right now. I don’t want to talk to them about any of this.”

Joseph nodded and pressed his fingers to his stomach again. He held onto the stub of the cigarette, just watching the tip glow in the dimming light. He must have forgotten that he didn’t have his gloves on, because he didn’t move as the cigarette burnt down.

Joseph gave a sharp intake of breath when the glowing stub touched his skin, felt the intense sting of the burn, and flicked it away.

He didn’t hear Sebastian ask if he was alright for a few seconds. He just stared at the burnt spot on his hand, transfixed.

\---

Joseph and Sebastian left the station feeling five times more exhausted than before. They hadn’t been able to answer any of the investigators’ questions, really. The people asking had barely believed what they could tell them. Joseph couldn’t say he blamed them. 

The two of them stood on the front steps again, both lighting up a cigarette.

“I wonder what did happen to Kidman though,” Sebastian said, staring up at the sky.

Joseph shrugged. “Hopefully she’s a thousand miles away from Leslie by now."

“And you,” Sebastian added.

Joseph flinched and touched his midsection.

“Sorry. Not pleasant memories, I know,” Sebastian said.

Joseph shrugged again and took a long drag.

“Since when do you smoke, anyhow?” Sebastian said.

Joseph looked amused and flicked his cigarette. “Since today. Felt appropriate."

Sebastian nodded.

“Try not to make a habit of it though,” Sebastian said, staring at the back of Joseph’s head, “don’t need you getting your lungs all fucked up if we ever have to run around a wasteland hell-scape again.”

“Sure,” Joseph said, forcing a chuckle.

\---

Sebastian picked his car up from the station and drove them both back to his apartment.

Joseph didn’t mention that his place was halfway across town. Sebastian shot him a look as they pulled up to the building, part sheepish smile and part “please-don’t-make-me-say-it” and Joseph just decided to let the matter go.

Honestly, he was a little relieved. Joseph didn’t enjoy the thought of spending the night on his own; even now the sound of the car door slamming shut made him jump and sent his hand flying to his gun holster.

Sebastian let them in, and almost immediately dropped onto his beat-up old couch, cradling his head in his hands.

“Fuck, man,” Sebastian sighed.

Joseph stood, looking around the room. It was cleaner than he remembered. The last time he’d been here, it had been in total disarray, completely littered with empty liquor and beer bottles. There were still bottles, sure, but the overall effect was neater. Healthier.

“See? Told you I’d cleaned up my act,” Sebastian said, watching Joseph take the apartment in.

“Guess you weren’t just screwing around,” Joseph said.

He flashed Sebastian a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Why do you keep touching your stomach?” Sebastian said and squinted up at Joseph curiously.

Joseph let his hand drop- he hadn’t been entirely aware that he’d done it.

“I don’t know, I just,” Joseph said, shrugging, “I keep thinking I’ll put my hand there and be bleeding again. It’s weird. I guess I just want to keep making sure I’m not dying.”

Sebastian’s brow knitted together.

“Ah, well. Glad you’re not dying, at least,” Sebastian said with a yawn, “but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m gonna get some sleep. You okay?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m fine. Go, get some rest; I’ll crash on the couch eventually.”

“No. No, that’s stupid. I don’t mind sharing, and the damn bed’s got enough room anyhow,” Sebastian said, frowning at Joseph.

He stood up and faced Joseph, crossing his arms. Joseph stood still, considering his partner’s expression.

“Seriously,” Sebastian added with an air of finality.

“Sure, then, if that’s what you want,” Joseph said.

Sebastian looked relieved and nodded.

“Alright then. If you don’t mind though, I think I’ll stay up for a little bit,” Joseph said.

“Fine by me. Night, Joseph. Feel free to use or take whatever you want,” Sebastian said. He turned and hovered by the doorway for a moment.

“Seriously. Are you okay?” Sebastian added.

Joseph laughed the first genuine laugh he could remember since before they’d been tossed into this whole mess.

“No, actually. Not really, no,” Joseph said.

Sebastian smiled sympathetically.

“Kinda figured. Just…let me know if you, uh. Need to talk or something. Okay?” Sebastian said.

Joseph didn’t exactly know how to respond. Of course Sebastian was a good guy, cared very much for the people in his life, but he wasn’t always so forthcoming with those sentiments.

“Of course, Seb. I’ll do that…thanks,” Joseph said.

“Remember,” Sebastian said quietly, turning to face the door, “I need my partner with me.”

Joseph smiled despite himself.

After about ten minutes, he heard Sebastian start to snore. Joseph curled up on the couch and pulled his knees to his chest.

It was horrible and selfish, Joseph knew, to feel this devastated by the fact that he’d survived. He should have been happy, or at least relieved.

Sebastian had been through so much more after all, had run the worst parts of Ruvik’s gauntlet and had done it mostly alone. Sebastian had done all that and smiled when he came to.

But when Joseph’s heart-rate picked up, and the anxiety of expecting the world to melt away into a new nightmare froze him up, he could almost feel the familiar cold, hateful twisting in his ribcage and the taste of copper in his mouth. He remembered the roiling sensation of wanting to tear through someone, wanting to hurt someone, wanting to let the blackened, twisted parts of him bubble up and replace him.

And with it he remembered the attendant desperation to put his gun to his head and fire. He was afraid that he couldn’t tell himself with any certainty that it was all just vivid memory. That he wasn’t still going to warp into a monster. That he wasn’t still desperate to get out the gun.

When he finally broke down, it was completely silent. He stared, wide-eyed into the darkness while cold tears slipped down his cheeks.


	2. Did It Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph wakes up at Sebastian's and tries to not be a wreck. Unfortunately for both of them, he's still a wreck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Self Injury, PTSD.
> 
> Please to take care of yourself if any of these subjects set you off!

Joseph woke to the sound of someone shouting. Before he could register who or what the sound was, or answer the panic-inducing question of why he was in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, that someone or something tackled him roughly off the edge of the bed.

“Oh, god,” Sebastian gasped, sitting back hard, “Joseph! Jesus.”

_Sebastian, right_ , Joseph thought and rubbed the shoulder he’d landed on. He was glad his head had been spared the impact. He was also incredibly grateful it hadn’t been, say, an angry zombie running at him. 

For a split second there, he’d half-convinced himself he was back in the STEM and had given himself up for dead.

“Yeah, just me,” Joseph said, pulling himself up off the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed.

Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and shook his head like a wet dog. “I’m sorry, really sorry, I just-“

“It’s alright. Nightmares?” Joseph said.

Sebastian nodded. “Not used to…other people being here, after all.”

Joseph winced at the implication. They sat in silence, listening to the sound of cars and birds outside.

“So, what do we do now?” Joseph said.

“Nothing. Which is exactly what I feel like doing.”

Joseph’s eyebrows raised. “But what about work?”

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow. “Is work something you’re feeling very enthusiastic about right now?”

“Well, not really, but aren’t they expecting us back?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Eventually, I’m sure they will be. I think they can hold shit together for the weekend, though.”

Joseph sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “I don’t think I know what to do with myself if I’m not working.”

“Well,” Sebastian said, “big fucking surprise there. Why don’t we just watch TV and not think about anything for a while?”

“Sure, Seb.”

\--

Sebastian stood up from his spot on the couch and stretched.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the store and grab some things. You think you’ll be okay here?”

“I think I’ll manage it. I haven’t needed a baby-sitter in almost 20 years and I’m pretty proud of that.”

Sebastian ruffled his hair; he hadn’t bothered combing it back- didn’t seem like it mattered.

“And we’re all real proud of you, too,” Sebastian said, “be right back.”

Sebastian disappeared through the door with a quiet click. Joseph turned the volume on the TV up, made it loud enough that he could have heard it in most of the rooms in the house. He didn’t even know what the program on was about. Me alien-conspiracy bullshit from the sound of it.

He paced through the rooms and eventually sat down in the kitchen. He’d tried to keep his breathing at a regular pace; even with the hum of the television in the background, the emptiness of the apartment was threatening to swallow him whole, suffused him with a blank fear.

Joseph cursed himself, that he would be coming apart this fast. Like a toddler that lost his parents at the super market. He should have been better than this. But without Sebastian as a focal point, he felt like his grip on reality was at risk. Like it could all melt away and he’d be helpless to stop it without Sebastian standing there, smiling and saying it was okay and pretending to not be coming apart himself.

The sound of his heartbeat in his ears overtook the television. It felt like he’d never breathe normally again. Would pass out. He pressed his hand hard to his stomach, trying to hold an imaginary wound closed. However stupid it made him feel, it worked- he was momentarily satisfied that he wasn’t dying and his heart-rate slowed a fraction of a second.

Joseph picked idly at the pile of random junk on the table and spied a large safety pin. He turned it in his fingers and felt like he was a million miles away from it, felt like he had slipped outside himself. The loss of control terrified him. He had to figure out if this was all real. If he was real. He had to find his way back to his body.  
Dully remembering the sharp, sensory-overwhelming pain of the cigarette, Joseph stabbed the pin deep into the meat of his hand below the thumb. He gasped and blinked at the object embedded in his hand, watched blood well up and trickle down.

Joseph was gripped by a warm wash of sudden calm, and he caught his breath again. The tabletop under his uninjured hand felt cool, solid- real. He pulled the pin out and flexed his hands, taking deep, measured breaths. The relief that his body was responding to him- felt like his own again- made him feel weirdly tingly and dizzy.  
He slipped the pin surreptitiously into his pocket. As long as he was calm and normal when Sebastian got back, it would be okay. He’d be okay.

\--

It wasn’t okay.

Joseph pulled his gun as soon as he heard the keys twisting in the door. He knew, logically, it would be Sebastian, but until he saw Sebastian’s face – blank with shock- he aimed the pistol shakily at the “intruder’s” core.

Sebastian dropped his bags and slowly raised his hands as Joseph lowered the gun. “Whoa, Joseph. It’s me. Just me.”

Joseph shook his head like he could dislodge the shame of having just aimed a gun at his partner and placed it down on the coffee table. Sebastian let out a breath and picked the bags up.

“Sorry,” Joseph said. It took all of his strength to make the words come out close to normal instead of a strangled whisper.

Sebastian smiled but the gesture was all wrong. Too tight and nervous. “Forgot I lived here a sec?”

“I-I guess…I must have spaced out. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian said gently and this time he smiled like he meant it, “it’s okay, really. Shit still feels…fresh, y’know? We’re both a little wobbly.”

Joseph rubbed his temple. “It’s not okay, Sebastian. I just pulled a gun on you in your own apartment.”

“Just don’t get so jumpy that you shoot first and ask questions later, yeah?”

Sebastian’s tone might have been playful, but Joseph couldn’t miss the fleeting look of concern.

_He really thinks I might shoot him_ , Joseph thought. The idea gave his stomach a cold twist. He had to get himself under fucking control, and fast. When Sebastian left the room to put away his things, Joseph stabbed the pin into his hand again, for a little closure.

\--

The rest of the weekend passed in a haze for the both of them. Luckily, Sebastian didn’t find any reason to leave again and Joseph clung to the man’s presence as though he might drown in existential horror otherwise. He felt a little awkward about that, but it was Sebastian’s idea that they spend the weekend together, like an absurd trauma-survivor slumber party, so it was an easy thing to hide.

He was also jealous of how well Sebastian seemed to be coping. Sure, he was jumpy as hell and had to leave some lights on at night. But he tried harder than ever to be cheerful, or at least less acerbic and bitter than usual. Joseph wondered if that was supposed to be for his benefit.

Then again, maybe surviving Ruvik’s bullshit had given Sebastian a brand new appreciation for life.

Imagine that. Years of trying to drag Sebastian out of the bottle, and some burnt-up asshole with too much technology and violence issues manages to do a better job of it than Joseph. Joseph dug his nails into his hand until it hurt.

Sebastian’s voice cut through Joseph’s gloomy thoughts. “You should really eat something. I haven’t seen you eat a goddamn thing all day.”

“Isn’t this ‘mothering’ thing usually the other way around?” Joseph regretted saying it as soon as it left his mouth and winced at the worlds of hurtful implication in the statement. Sebastian just smiled, even if it looked a little tired.

“Yeah, well. New surprises every fuckin’ day, right? Now c’mon. Let’s eat something."

Joseph didn’t have the energy to argue, though he didn’t feel hungry. They compromised on soup.

It occurred to him, watching Sebastian pick at his food listlessly, that Sebastian had eaten already. He was playing along just so Joseph wouldn’t feel strange, or singled out. So that Joseph wouldn’t notice that he was concerned. For some reason, the idea infuriated him and the fury passed into cold fear.

It was the sort of irrational anger he’d felt before- before he’d started to warp, before the copper taste filled his mouth and he lost control-  
Joseph slipped his hand into his pocket and dug the safety pin into his palm, twisting it so the pain jolted him. He focused on the discomfort until the panic passed.

They ate in silence and went back to idling around the living room. They watched TV, read, whatever they could do to keep their minds occupied. They didn’t talk much- if they talked too much, eventually they  
would run out of things to say that didn’t touch on what they had been through. Neither of them was really ready to deal with that yet.

Joseph felt a mounting nervousness when he considered that he’d have to leave Sebastian’s apartment. Nervousness felt like the only emotion he was capable of anymore. He tried to focus on the present, tried to relax and appreciation the quiet, steady companionship while he had it, but fear crept in. 

He’d be seriously gratefully when they’d let him go back to work, if only so that he’d have some kind of goal and direction. Still, the idea of bouncing around his lonely apartment filled him with dread. He was doing so poorly, even with the emotional brace of Sebastian. How much worse would it get, alone at all hours of the night, constantly on the edge of being subsumed by the noise in his head?

Joseph wondered if Ruvik wasn’t going to win, wasn’t going to break him after all. Shame that the man wouldn’t be there to enjoy it.

Joseph took a deep, shaky breath, and shoved the pin into his hand again.


	3. No, I Don't Feel Lighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph has a bad time, and figures out that there are new and exciting ways to deal with the psychological torment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Graphic depictions of Self Harm, OCD, Mental Illness, Panic Attacks, Blood, Violence, PTSD, Mention of alcoholism.

Work proved to be the exact sort of distraction Joseph needed, however temporary the effects were. It was an environment where his outwardly calm, controlled demeanor was a welcome distraction from the everyday chaos of police work.  


If anyone noticed the occasional strange gesture, extra forms missing from time to time, the quiet counting under his breath- well, they were quickly distracted by their own issues and responsibilities. It had always made Joseph feel somewhat secure.  


It wasn’t as though any of these problems were _new_ to him, after all. It had been much the same for him when he was on the force in Toronto, and through high school besides- the intrusive thoughts, and the rituals (sometimes elaborate, sometimes simple) that he relied on to keep his head clear and steady. He’d never considered it to be an “issue”, and he’d long since written it off as the background noise of his life.  


Then, his partner at the time had lodged a formal complaint. He’d cited issues about “repetitive behaviors, general inflexibility, time wasted re-doing forms, generally un-balanced demeanor” and about a dozen other things Joseph was mortified to realize that anyone else had noticed- noticed to the point of irritation. He’d worked so hard to keep it hidden and by all appearances, to make sure it didn’t affect his work.  


Maybe it had been a touch dramatic to transfer as immediately as he did. That sense of drama was only made more glaring by the fact that he’d picked the farthest available police department to transfer to.  


Joseph didn’t care about that though- he was haunted by the idea that everybody knew about him now. That he’d be considered a departmental eccentricity; that he was _that_ guy, the one people warned the others about being assigned to.  


So he’d taken the transfer and taken a train out to Krimson City, a city he’d never even really heard about before, counting the number of times the woman across from him got up to go to the bathroom (six times) and the number of panels in his car (fifty) the whole way there.  


It worked out for him, anyway. If the Toronto people had sent anything over about his “issues” and the possible need for a psych evaluation to the KCPD, the Chief kept it to himself and Joseph got the fresh start he’d been hoping for.  


Having Sebastian for a partner had been possibly the biggest break his life had afforded him thus far. Joseph’s eccentricities were easily drowned out by Sebastian’s exuberance and reputation. Even when Joseph’s obsession over details and tenacity turned excessive, it was easy for others to assume it was compensation for Sebastian’s tendency to dive in head-first and ignore consequences.  


It had been the perfect partnership, in some ways. For a while, anyway. 

\--  


Now though, with the memories of Ruvik’s other-world clinging to him like dried blood, everything felt frantic. It wasn’t as simple as driving out the horribly intrusive thoughts, it was more as though he were actively dying until he did.  


Even without the constant barrage of unwanted mental imagery, a general anxiety had settled over him like an invisible shroud; every moment of the day felt electric, frightening and urgent. Even when work forced him to shove all his psychic garbage to the background, it wasn’t anything he could stop. Work couldn’t be the stronghold he’d needed.  


“What’re you doing?” Sebastian said, lifting his head from where he’d been scribbling notes.  


Joseph glanced up from his paperwork. He’d drawn a thick black line over what he’d written and shoved the now-ruined paper off to the side. He’d been about to fill out a new copy of the form when Sebastian had interrupted him.  


“Filling out suspect forms. You should try it sometime.”  


“Either you’re working faster than ever, or you just started a new form before finishing the last one, ‘cause that was three sheets of paper in like, seven minutes.”  


Joseph clenched his jaw. “It’s the same form. I messed the last one up.”  


“And the one before that?”  


“Was also messed up- Sebastian, are you going to compile a list of new leads or are you going to question my paperwork habits all day?” Joseph said in a single breath.  


Joseph refused to meet Sebastian’s eyes. He heard Sebastian grunt, but didn’t say anything else.  


Joseph glanced down at his growing pile of rejected papers- some had crooked lines or a misspelled word- and felt a wave of cold anxiety in his stomach. He grabbed a safety pin from somewhere on his desk and curled his fist around it, hoping the stabilizing jolt of pain would let him fill out the form properly and get on with his work.  


By the time to two of them left the office, Joseph’s hand looked like a goddamn sieve.  


\--  


As soon as Joseph arrived back at his apartment his hard-won composure all but dissolved. He paused at the door, locking and un-locking the deadbolt a total of five times in between measured breaths. At the fifth attempt he was satisfied that the door was properly locked.  


Joseph dropped onto his couch and stared at the ceiling, scrubbing at his cheeks. Even with all the window blinds shut, it was easy to imagine figures just waiting, looming behind the windows. As though at any moment the door would splinter open and something would tear him apart.  


“Would it really be that bad, if it happened?” he sighed to himself.  


He flexed his left hand, idly counting the number of pinpricks visible along his palm and fingers. No matter what he tried to occupy himself with, there was always blank dread in the background, just revisiting the worst moments of his time in the STEM. There didn’t seem to be anything that didn’t remind him of it, and the unobstructed silence of his apartment didn’t help.  


Eventually, after several aborted attempts at reading or eating, it was late enough for him to just go to bed and do his best to stop thinking. Joseph left the light on in the adjacent room and curled up on his side. He buried his head in his hands and tried to remember the “calming” breathing patterns his ex had tried to teach him, years ago.  


It didn’t really work; it never had. Minutes ticked by and he still felt wound too tight, like his ribcage was trying to contain too much, pushing the air out to make room for more festering worry. All Joseph wanted to do was get some sleep, or at the very least not be awake, regardless of the inevitable nightmares. The electric feeling in his chest was making that impossible.  


He got up and paced from room to room, turning lights on as he went. Eventually he paused in his bathroom to look at himself in the mirror, staring at his over-tired, blank expression. After a few moments, he was half-convinced that his skin was going to start bubbling up and cracking, rotting off his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the sink so hard that his arms shook.  


His jittering upset some of the odds and ends he’d left beside the sink; a comb and a packet of razorblades included. He stooped over to retrieve them, feeling gradually more and more distant from himself as he picked up one of the blades and turned it over in his fingers.  


With a quick motion, Joseph pressed the sharp corned of the blade to his wrist- just underneath his palm, where the leather gloves always covered- and drew a single, smooth red line. He did almost automatically, gave himself no time to think the action through.  


With a sharp exhale, he watched the blood gather at the edges of the wound and sliced another thin line below it, pressing a little harder. Blood oozed down the crease of his wrist and dripped on to the white porcelain of the sink.  


The sharp, stinging sensation buzzed upward from his arm to his head and he felt a hell of a lot more present. The familiar warm wash of calm stole over him, more powerfully than before. He held the razor against his palm and walked back to his bedroom, experimentally slicing another wound open alongside the other two as he lay back, watching the blood travel down his arm.  


He fell asleep like that, having tossed the blade to the floor and staring numbly at his wrist. For the first time in ages, Joseph didn’t dream about the STEM incident. There were just voices, warm darkness, and blood.  


\--  


“Why do you keep doing that?” Sebastian said, glancing over at Joseph in the passenger’s seat.  


“Doing what?”  


“Tugging on your gloves,” Sebastian said.  


Joseph dropped his hands guiltily. “Sorry.”  


“You don’t have to be sorry about it, I was just wondering why.”  


Joseph shrugged and slid his thumb below the hem of the glove on his left hand, feeling the sting as his nail dug into the shallow cuts there. He braced himself for further probing, but Sebastian just cocked an eyebrow.  


“You seem tense,” Sebastian said, not sounding as nonchalant as he was probably aiming for.  


“You always think I seem tense,” Joseph said with a forced laugh, “you know, you’d come off that way too, always having to keep an eye on you.”  


Sebastian smiled and lapsed into silence, staring at the windshield like he was lost in thought.  


“It just feels strange,” Sebastian said after a while, “like we’re just trying to ignore that it happened. Like, we filled out the incident reports and the whole ordeal disappeared with all the legal bullshit.”  


Joseph stared at his hands, shaking his head imperceptibly. There was a shiver of fear starting up at the base of his spine that intensified with every word that came out of Sebastian, but he couldn’t think of a civil way to tell him to shut up.  


“Maybe we’re just…focusing on moving on,” Joseph said. His voice lacked the conviction he’d tried to muster for the statement.  


He was busy trying to shut out the film-reel of monstrosity and violence that flickered to life in his head every time he thought about it. Tried to shut out that part of him that he very much feared had wanted it.  


Sebastian laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Yeah, that sounds like me, calmly moving on is how I’ve always handled these situations.”  


“Sebastian…”  


“And no, before you ask, I’m not drinking,” Sebastian added tightly.  


“I didn’t think-“  


“Of _course_ you fucking did.”  


“Well can you blame me? Besides, if you’re not, then how the hell are you-“  


“Dealing with it? Acting like it doesn’t bother me?”  


Joseph stared pointedly out the window. He wasn’t sure he could handle looking at Sebastian right now.  


“Because I don’t have a choice,” Sebastian said quietly, “because I can’t just…constantly be turned in on myself. Not anymore. If I hated myself before, I’d hate myself twice as much for going down that road again.”  


“Why can’t you do it _now_? What the hell is stopping you that didn’t stop you before?” Joseph snapped.  


It wasn’t a strictly tactful thing to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. This soul-searching bullshit was the kind of thing Sebastian had walked out on several work-mandated therapists for prompting before. It made Joseph almost want to punch him.  


Sebastian blinked and stared at Joseph for as long as he could manage without crashing the car. He looked incredulous, like that was the last thing he’d expected to be asked.  


He never answered Joseph’s question, either. They sat in silence for the rest of the drive while Joseph tugged absentmindedly on the hem of his glove.  


\--  


The only light in Joseph’s apartment was from the bathroom, where he leaned over the sink, forehead pressed painfully against the porcelain. There was a small rivulet of blood gathering at the lip of the sink and dripping slowly downward.  


Really, the whole thing looked a lot more dramatic than it was, Joseph thought.  


He tensed the razor against his upper arm, right below the elbow where a nurse might take a blood sample, and made another cut to join the previous ones somewhere between shallow and deep. His hands were shaking and his eyes were bleary with exhaustion- it was much later that he usually stayed up- otherwise, he might have been more careful about what he was doing. Might have re-thought doing it at all.  


Tonight though, his teeth were fairly vibrating with the almost-physical force of anxiety tearing between his ribs, and all he wanted to do was feel calm enough to sleep.  


Sebastian’s words were playing in his head on endless repeat, creating an inescapable loop of shame, anger, and worry. He didn’t understand what Sebastian had meant, exactly, but he was sure that the little speech had pissed him off. Not to mention the deep-down twist of pain that remembering always gave him.  


Was Sebastian hinting at the fact that he thought Joseph was coming apart? Was it becoming that obvious? Worse- was it showing in his work?  


Or was Sebastian just rubbing it in that nothing Joseph had done had been enough; that all the incident with IA had managed to do for either of them was decimate the fragile trust they had built over the years? That he’d only managed to drive Sebastian deeper into whatever godforsaken combination of paranoia and alcoholism he had been drowning in, alone?  


Because Joseph didn’t need to be reminded of that.  As relieved as he might have been about Sebastian cavalier new attitude towards sobriety, he didn’t need to be reminded that he had ultimately failed Sebastian.  


He dropped the razor into the sink and drew his fingers slowly through the pooling blood on his arm, like a child playing with paint. His breathing had slowed and his limbs felt pleasantly heavy.  


Joseph dragged himself to bed, the heaviness of sleep overpowering the prickle of bitterness in his throat from all his remembering and regretting. It had the same sharp, metallic taste to it that his blood did, smeared absently across his mouth as he slept.  



	4. Try to Get Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It always gets worse before it gets better, right?

Everything was indistinct, made him feel almost drunk- he couldn’t run or even see straight, surrounded on all sides by stifling heat and the damp smell of rot he’d come to identify with the warped, half-dead people in the STEM system.

He knew Sebastian was somewhere behind him, thought he could even hear the man shouting after him. It only made him want to run faster, farther away.

Pulses in his vision blinded Joseph, moments of time ran like a slideshow; the hot thrill of Sebastian’s neck, blood pulsing in panicked thumps, underneath his tightening fingers; a warm spray of blood sluiced across his face, dripping down his nose and into his mouth as his axe arced and buried itself in the thick flesh of some misshapen horror.

It was like being pulled along by strings. Joseph was outside of himself even as he stared out from his own eyes, his body suffused with the sharp bloodlust and exhilaration that made his own blood drool out of his lungs and his vision go dim.

He would hurt someone. He would hurt them because he wanted to hurt someone, was excited to hurt someone. Until his heartbeat slowed and he was back in the confines of his body again, hurting someone was all he could think about. When he was grounded again, the lingering haze of violence inside him mad him feel sick enough to dry-heave.

Then the pictures moved like a VHS on fast-forward and pitched him through space and time. Then, there was the cold muzzle of a pistol pushed against his temple and god, it felt perfect, it felt right, and then there was his finger on the trigger; he imagined he could hear all the complicated machinery of the gun click and whirr before the metal shuddered and the bang-

Joseph shot up from the tangle of sheets screaming and clawing at his temples, face damp with tears.

He barely hesitated before he grabbed absently at a razor blade and let it bite his wrist open, the cuts overlapping and sending blood trickling down his fingertips. The stinging made it easier, just a little bit, to try and forget the gun he kept in the other room.

–

“You look like hell.”

Joseph glanced to Sebastian with poorly concealed irritation. “Thanks. Always a confidence boost from you.”

Sebastian frowned. “I mean, I-“

“I’m fine.”

Sebastian tugged at his hair. “Joseph, seriously.”

Joseph turned, waiting for him to finish.

“Um, just wanted to say…”

Joseph inclined his head. “Yes?”

“I uh, I meant what I said, okay? If you want to talk, or like…Idunno, stay over for a while or something, let me know.”

Joseph sighed and tried to swallow down his gut reaction, how he wanted to collapse and say yes, yes please, let me stay with you and maybe I could sleep without having to bleed myself out, just once, please.

Sebastian tried to keep his expression casual as he waited through the silence.“‘Cause I mean, no offense, but. I think you need to talk. To someone. It doesn’t have to be me, if you don’t want to. Although, given the situation, I’m not sure who else would believe you.”

Joseph opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when Sebastian clapped his hands over his face and shook his head.

“Shit, shit…I’m sorry, that came out horrible. I’m not saying you’re- that you- I mean, fuck, I’m sure there are people you can talk to, it’s not like you have to be specific-“

Joseph placed a hand on Sebastian’s arm and shook it gently. He found it hard not to smile, despite the gloominess of their situation. “Sebastian.”

“What?”

“We have to get over to the witness’ house or we’ll be late.”

Sebastian’s face fell and he worked his jaw before forcing a smile. Joseph felt like an asshole, it being his fault again that he looked so put out- especially with how hard Sebastian was trying to be considerate of him.

Still, it was better to disappoint the man instead of losing all of his resolve and going crying to Sebastian. Sebastian, who might have been the one person who really didn’t need to have to deal with Joseph’s shit right now. The one person Joseph couldn’t stand to see him this fucking weak.

The subject of Joseph’s stability didn’t come up again for the rest of the day, though Joseph caught Sebastian staring at him appraisingly, worry clouding his features. The scrutiny made Joseph want to slap him, remind him of all the times the situation had been reversed and Joseph had to shoulder Sebastian’s self-destructive indifference.

He clenched his fists until they hurt, violence and panic blending in his brain until his skin went hot and shivery. When they got back to office, he’d have to grab something sharp to slice the frenzy out of his head, make him normal again.

–

Joseph didn’t usually allow himself to act so stupid and reckless at work- he believed staunchly in professionalism.

His racing heart-rate and the never ending march of hateful impulses didn’t give him much of a choice though. Huddled in a bathroom stall, Joseph slipped an X-Acto blade from his wallet and let the point of it dig little holes in the meat of his arm. He could make a few simple marks and calm down enough to get back to work, or he was sure he’d have a very public breakdown in the office.

Joseph was afraid though. It was a small, insidious creep of fear that traveled along his arm alongside the cold slice of the razor blade. It scared him that this was becoming routine, to the point that he carried blades with him, because he knew he’d need them eventually. 

Joseph stuck a handful of large bandages over the wounds he’d made, watching the pads soak to a deep red before he buttoned the cuffs of his shirt. It would be a small miracle if it wasn’t stained by the time he got home.

Joseph let his head thump against the metal of the bathroom stall and slumped there. Things were getting worse all the time and somehow, he hated himself more than when he was just scared and unsure of how to cope. Now he was coping, dealing with himself, and he couldn’t be more ashamed. He couldn’t even keep it to himself, had to let his neurosis spill over to the point that Sebastian was worried.

It was survival, sort of. Not for the first time, Joseph was forced to ask himself: If this is what it took to survive, wouldn’t giving up be so much easier?

Imagine, something in his subconscious whispered to him, no more of your humiliating self-mutilation. No more nightmares. No more being forced to watch Sebastian clean up, move on, and not need ‘poor little Joseph’ anymore. Just heat, and noise, then quiet. Forever.

Joseph slashed an ugly, jagged line across his hand to stave off the hysterics prickling at the back of his eyes and nose.


	5. But We Just Stay Stuck on the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian accidentally hits on some raw nerves, and Joseph experiments with how to best wreck himself.

Joseph had imagined, for a little while at least, that he had almost nailed something like a routine down. At least well enough to pass as “normal”.  


The cycle of panic, self-hatred, and auto-mutilation had become daily, sure, and the skin of his wrists were becoming ridged with scar tissue over scar tissue. And maybe the angry red lines were slowly traveling up his arms, dotting his hips, slinking down his legs, but still. He was getting by.  


Joseph went to work, had lunch with Sebastian and occasionally got dinner with him after work and looked, to all appearances, more or less normal.  


It was difficult to keep up appearances in the office, though. The general background pressure to do his job well was amplified, resulting in more wasted paperwork and hastily hidden bloodstains than he could keep track of.  


Sometimes, he forgot that his partner was, in fact, a detective and prone to notice all sorts of little details. Little details that were pooling out of him when he didn’t notice, turning into an angry tide of maladjusted evidence.  


\--  


“Joseph.”  


Joseph looked up sharply from where he stood at the office door. He had locked it, he was sure of that.  


He was sure of that because he had done it six times.  


It didn’t help shake the feeling that if he didn’t lock the door properly, something might get in. Someone would get in. Someone would get in, and then Joseph would have to get his gun out and he’d hurt someone, but he couldn’t hurt anyone because if he did, he might not be able to stop-  


“Joseph!”  


Joseph slid the lock shut one final time and dropped his arms. “Yes?”  


“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Sebastian said.  


“Locking the door.”  


“Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. You’ve been locking the door for a while now.”  


Joseph pressed his fingers to his stomach and tried to count the pulses to stay calm. “Sorry. I guess I must have spaced out.”  


Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Seem to be doing that a lot lately.”  


“What do you mean?”  


Sebastian crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. “I mean, you spend more time staring into space and throwing out mostly-blank paperwork than you do anything else. It’s getting weird.”  


Joseph bristled. He knew it would be impossible to keep all of his symptoms down all of the time, but he hadn’t imagined it was that bad.  


“Are you implying that I’m incapable of properly accomplishing my work to the best of my ability?”  


“That’s more or less exactly what I’m implying.”  


Joseph’s expression went slack and he stared at Sebastian in surprise.  


Sebastian’s eyes widened as the reality of what he’d said really sank in. “Oh, fuck, no that’s not what I meant- I’m not saying that because I’m concerned about your _work_.”  


Something went very cold and still in Joseph’s chest. He unlocked the door and left his hand on the doorknob, glaring at the pattern of the door’s wood grain.  


“What else _is_ there, Sebastian?”  


He stormed out before Sebastian could answer.  


\--  


Joseph had found half a dozen excuses to spend the rest of his shift down in evidence storage just so he wouldn’t have to speak to Sebastian again. He was scared of what might come out of him if he had to.  


After leaving work, he’d just driven in aimless, looping paths around the city. He had no real destination, he just wasn’t willing to sit alone in his house and stew in negativity.  


As long as he was out somewhat in public, it was easier to resist the urge to give into the hurt, shameful tears he felt backing up in his nose and throat.  


All he could think about was finding somewhere to get a drink, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of going to the bar alone. Not when so many of the local bartenders already knew him by name, knew his goddamn phone number from the numerous times he’d been forced to drag his drunken wreck of a partner out of their establishments at 2 AM.  


_It’s not like I don’t deserve this_ , Joseph thought. _This must be how it felt for him, too. And here I am, feeling sorry for myself just because he noticed how much I’ve been fucking up. At least he didn’t set Internal Affairs on me._  


Even having his integrity called into question by his best friend was cause for Joseph to feel ashamed. He sped up a little and headed back to his house, stopping by a small liquor shop nearby. There had to be something, anything to block out the horrible things creeping around his head.  


_I don’t want to hurt Sebastian, I don’t want to hurt him_. Even as the words hit his consciousness, all he could imagine was Sebastian, choking on a deluge of blood as Joseph’s axe-head buried into his gut, over and over and-  


“Sir? Will that be cash or credit?”  


Joseph startled back into the present and handed the cashier his card. She eyed his badge suspiciously and slid the bag of whiskey over the counter to him. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, just stared at the floor as he left.  


Once he had secured himself in his home, locking the door exactly 23 times, Joseph fell against his couch and uncapped the whiskey. He drank straight from the bottle, feeling like a glass was an unnecessary luxury, and grimaced at the burning sensation spreading from his mouth to his throat.  


By the second draught of liquor, Joseph was beginning to appreciate the way it burned. He swallowed another mouthful, letting it linger on his tongue and in his throat to savor the way it scalded his insides and warmed his skin.  


The fire of the whiskey was like a cleansing. If he could just keep drinking, he could let the alcohol scrub his insides raw and be good again, whole again.  


If Joseph had had any sensibility at all, he would have remembered to eat before drowning himself in alcohol. Now though, it went straight to his head, and it was only fifteen minutes of taking shots before he began to feel a little as though he had come un-stuck from the world; the room tilted around him gently.  


He had to admit, the effects of the alcohol on his mind weren’t exactly bad, either. Slowly, the intolerable shroud of anxiety lifted from him, as though his mind were gradually going blank. Each shot made the nagging worry and repeating horror put itself on pause.  


_No wonder Sebastian started drinking_ , Joseph thought hazily.  


Thirty minutes passed, and Joseph was losing the ability to see straight or make his limbs obey him. On the coffee table nearby, his phone had gone off with a rumbling buzz. In fact, it had been going off pretty regularly for hours since he’d left work, but he couldn’t bring himself to check it.  


He didn’t have that hesitation now, just a borderline giddy curiosity.  


Two messages were from his sister; the rest were all from Sebastian. Three missed calls, one voicemail, and several text messages blinked on the screen.  


_Joseph, I’m sorry.  
_

_That was stupid of me to say and I wish I hadn’t said it.  
_

_Please let me explain.  
_

_Look, just tell me if you’re alright._  


Joseph laughed softly and threw himself back against the couch. The whole situation struck him as pathetic, but even in his current sorry state it made his chest clench to think of leaving Sebastian alone and upset.  


_Ikm goodd. Evrythings god_ , Joseph typed, his fingers fumbling over the keypad.  


Sebastian’s reply pinged back almost immediately. _Uh, alright. That’s not very reassuring but I’ll take your word for it. I’m sorry. Can we talk about this tomorrow?_  


_Dobnt ned to tlak about aything. Its alk f I ne. So ry._  


He dropped the phone to take another swig from the diminishing contents of the whiskey bottle. It nearly crashed to the ground when another phone alert startled him.  


_Joseph, are you drunk right now?_  


Joseph dropped the phone again and buried his face in his hands. He felt a small kernel of satisfaction that Sebastian might be feeling, even a little, what the last few years had been like for him.  


He took another drink to try and drown out the guilt that immediately chased that thought. There was a difference, of course Joseph knew that. Sebastian had been through some of the worst shit either of them could have imagined. All Joseph had to deal with was his own reprehensible inability to manage his emotions.  


He was pathetic, and now he was being petty and vindictive as well.  


Joseph wondered if the whiskey could make _those_ feelings go away, too.  


\--  


“Christ.”

Joseph managed to stop locking the door by the fourth attempt on his way into the office. “What?”  


“You…sort of look like hell,” Sebastian said.  


Joseph scowled and dropped his bag onto the desk forcefully.  


He was aware of what he looked like; a cursory glance in the mirror that morning had proven that no amount of carefully brushing back his hair or smoothing his vest could hide the toll a full night of binge-drinking had taken on him. His eyes were bleary and bruised, and his complexion could best be described as ‘ashen’.  


“I was feeling sick this morning.” Joseph wasn’t exactly lying; he had spent a good fifteen minutes vomiting up the meager contents of his stomach before he'd left for work.  


Sebastian snorted. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Getting wasted will do that to you. What the hell were you doing? This- this isn’t like you, Joseph.  


Joseph cursed himself silently for having so much as touched his phone while he was drunk. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”  


Sebastian looked wounded. “You’re my partner. It is kind of my business.”  


That cold sensation returned to Joseph’s agitated stomach. “I see. Well, you’ll be glad to know I am currently sober and alert enough to accomplish my duties. I hope my performance will be satisfactory.”  


“Joseph, please. I told you, I’m sorry I said that.”  


“And I told you it was fine.”  


“First of all, what you typed barely even resembled ‘it’s all fine’, and you’re not exactly acting like the paragon of forgiveness and understanding right now. I understand if you’re still mad-”  


“I also told you that I don’t want to talk about it.”  


“You don’t want to talk about anything!”  


Joseph pressed his fingers to his stomach hard enough to bruise. “You’re right. I don’t.”  


“Alright, but the problem is that we really do need to talk about this. You need to talk about this, to someone! I don’t know what’s been going on with you, but-“  


Joseph held his hands up, shaking his head. “Sebastian, look, I’m sorry. Okay? But this is not a discussion to be having at work, particularly with your newfound concern with professionalism. I’m going to get some coffee; you want anything?”  


Sebastian looked as though all the air had gone out of him. “I- no, I’m fine. Thanks.”  


Joseph got to the door, gritting his teeth with the agonizing pressure of fear and anger building up in his head. It was tearing him up to see Sebastian so forlorn, but he couldn’t help it. Joseph couldn’t afford for Sebastian to find him out.  


“Joseph?”  


“Yeah?”  


“Please- tell  me we can talk about this, sometime?”  


“Talk about what, Sebastian? You keep saying we need to ‘talk about this’ but you haven’t said _what_.”  


“About what happened. About how you’re doing. About…fuck, about everything. I need to know where we stand right now.”  


Joseph gripped the doorjamb until his fingers ached. “Yeah, okay. Sometime.”  


Sebastian’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks.”  


Joseph was being a real asshole, he knew that. There was no way he could make Sebastian understand though.  


Sebastian didn’t need any more burdens. He didn’t need any more grief. Joseph had been a failure at supporting Sebastian when he’d needed it most and he couldn’t absolve himself of that by becoming one more thing that could drag Sebastian down. It was easier for Sebastian to wonder than for him to know the truth.  


Joseph returned to the office with coffee, and blood puddling in the fingertips of his gloves.  



End file.
